


Praying Woman

by Diary



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, Background Relationships, Bechdel Test Pass, Canon Bisexual Character, Canon Character of Color, Canon Queer Character of Color, Conversations, Female Protagonist, Female-Centric, Introspection, Literal Sleeping Together, Love, Loyalty, Mental Health Issues, Minor Annalise Keating/Sam Keating, Morally Ambiguous Character, POV Bonnie Winterbottom, POV Female Character, Past Abuse, Prayer, Self-Reflection, Sharing a Bed, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 08:28:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16281092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diary/pseuds/Diary
Summary: An AU look at Bonnie and Annalise after Annalise's suicide attempt. Complete.





	Praying Woman

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own How to Get Away with Murder.

Her first thought is to make a place on the floor by the door, but then, she realises: Knowing if Annalise tries to physically leave the room or house isn’t as important as knowing if Annalise starts to have a delayed reaction. Google is only so reliable, and if given a choice between having Annalise fire her and Annalise dying or ending up in a coma, she’ll take the former.

Surely, though, there’s some way besides invading Annalise’s, Annalise’s and Sam’s, bed.

Spotting a chair, she drags it over to the bed, and sitting down, she carefully wraps her fingers around Annalise’s wrist.

Annalise mumbles something, and she wonders if this is normal or a product of the drugs. Sam would know, and he probably deserves to know this. The baby was his, too, a little boy with Annalise’s beautiful skin, and she imagines he would have had Sam’s kind, intelligent eyes. Even with what happened to her, she can’t fully imagine what it must be for other people to lose a child, but- He might not survive losing his wife so soon after losing his child.

It’s not a kind thought, but: People lose children. It happens. Annalise is strong enough for almost anything, but she tried to leave over this. If it gets out she did, Bonnie knows she herself will bear the brunt of the blame.

She can’t blame a tiny, helpless baby for not being strong enough. He’d’ve probably taken after Sam. People like her and Annalise are made, not born, and Annalise would never let any living children of hers suffer the way they have.

Clearing away her thoughts, she listens to Annalise’s soft breathing and occasional mumbles. Underneath her fingertips is warm skin, and she was careful not to rest her fingers over any pulse points, but she can feel the solid, soft life underneath the skin.

Then, Annalise rolls over, and in her dozing state, she almost ends up on the floor.

This isn’t going to work, she realises.

“Okay,” she quietly says. “It’ll be okay.”

Taking off her shoes, she carefully lies down over the sheets, and thankfully, Annalise has rolled over far enough that they don’t make contact with one another.

“We’re going to get through this,” she promises.

Closing her eyes, she continues listening to the breathing and too-soft to make out words.

…

They make it through the night.

She slept with her sister some when she was little, and she’s slept in bed with a few men.

Trust Annalise to make it confusing, scary, and foreignly different without even meaning to.

Every time Annalise moved, she could feel it, and maybe, neither Annalise or Sam mind this, but if the subject ever organically comes up, she’s definitely going to make a casual suggestion that a memory foam mattresses that don’t transfer movement might provide some great benefits. In addition, a king-sized bed would fit in their room, and so, maybe, a bigger bed would also be better.

More than the movement, she could smell Annalise. She could feel the body heat emitting from her. It was uncomfortable sleeping in her clothes, and at one point, she was so cold she couldn’t get back to sleep, but getting under the covers was out of the question.

However, the worst thing is her boss tried to commit suicide, and she found herself _wanting_.

Sam’s a good husband, and he loves Annalise so much. He and Annalise, they weren’t just going to have a baby, even if the baby never took a breath, they had one. They always will.

Annalise was so vulnerable in her drug-propelled sleep.

Yet, there she was, and she imagined lying under the covers in a comfortable gown, t-shirt, or pair of pyjamas. She imagined the warm skin pressed against her. She imagined it might be nice getting used to having another person, one specific person, so close. Getting used to the movements, not fearing what they might mean-

As far as she knows, she was normal in not particularly giving much thought to sharing a bed with her sister. She would have wanted her own bed if she hadn’t had it, but when they were in strange places, she felt safer sleeping with her.

Even the men she liked, she hadn’t slept well when it came to sharing a bed, and she’d never imagined, never hoped, it could be better.

What’s important is the danger zone has probably passed, she tells herself.

After going to the bathroom, she starts breakfast, and she’s almost done when Annalise stumbles in.

“Hey,” she softly says. “No coffee for another 24 hours, okay? Here’s some orange juice.”

Giving her a bleary glare, Annalise nevertheless accepts the glass.

“I sent an email to the dean. You caught a nasty 24-to-48 hour bug. I haven’t called Sam, yet.”

And so far, he hasn’t called for Annalise.

She doesn’t know how bad this is. What she does know is both Sam and Annalise make it a point to always call the other when one of them is out-of-town.

“Bonnie.” Annalise’s voice is hoarse, and she checks to make sure there’s still plenty of orange juice in the glass.

“Hm?”

The oatmeal with eggs mixed in is almost done. It’s more of a Sam breakfast than an Annalise one, but hopefully, it’ll stay down and drive the last of the pills out of Annalise’s system.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to- I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d done things differently.”

Yes, you would have, she thinks. You might still blame me for doing this.

“Here.” Setting the bowl down, she sticks a spoon in before sitting down. “If you ever want or need to talk, I’m here. And if you don’t, I won’t push. But you can’t do something like this again, Annalise. You need to get some sort of help so that I don’t have to worry about it.”

Nodding, Annalise begins eating.

A little less than halfway through, she stops. “I can’t eat anymore right now.”

“I’ll put it up for later.”

When she sits back down, Annalise looks at her with tired eyes, and then, Annalise touches her hand.

Don’t react, she tells herself. Don’t react. It’s an innocent, non-threatening, not particularly meaningful gesture. There’s nothing to fear, and wanting more because of it would be pathetic.

“I’ll talk to Sam. I promise. I’m not going to tell him what exactly happened, but I’ll tell him I’m not handling it as well as I hoped I could. He helped me before, and even though he’s hurting, too, together, he and I can get through this.”

She’s more agnostic than anything, and she knows Annalise wouldn’t be above lying to her the same way Annalise lies to clients and other students, but she finds herself praying Annalise and Sam can and will get through this.


End file.
